


Reassurance

by Lemonandpie



Series: Taking Care of You [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Foggy Nelson needs a hug, Hurt Foggy Nelson, M/M, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Near Death Experiences, Riding, Role Reversal, Topping from the Bottom, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonandpie/pseuds/Lemonandpie
Summary: After getting shot at in DA Reyes' office, Foggy and Matt confront Foggy's mortality. Badly.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Taking Care of You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732525
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is late. Blame migraines.
> 
> So a quick timeline explanation: In this series, Elektra never comes back, Matt never gets involved with The Chaste again, and instead focuses on the Castle case. Therefore he and Foggy aren't fighting, but Foggy still gets shot. 
> 
> We've also got another pov change! Ah, Foggy's brain, I've missed you

Foggy didn’t know why he expected the apartment to have changed. It just seemed like that was what would happen-- get shot and suddenly everything is different. But it wasn’t different. Actually it was probably a bit tidier. Matt tended to keep things pretty Spartan, so without Foggy around to clog up the works everything was nice and tidy.

Matt took Foggy’s bag and began to put the contents away. He put the clean clothes in the closet, the dirty clothes in the laundry bag, and snarled at Foggy’s bloodied shirt and jacket before chucking it in the trash. He then set up Foggy’s meds on his nightstand, perfectly mirroring Matt’s own array of pills. 

And then he put a very forceful hand on Foggy’s good shoulder and pushed on it until Foggy got the hint and sat down on the couch.

Matt moved around their apartment in silence. He got Foggy a glass of water, fluffed his pillow even though Foggy hadn’t wanted to lay down in the first place, and put on Foggy’s favorite show, all without saying a word. Or making a facial expression. Or showing any signs of affection. Just a total shut down.

It had been that way since Foggy woke up from surgery.

“Matt, sit down, please?” Foggy asked when Matt started putting away dishes. “I haven’t been able to talk to you in a week.”

Matt paused, grimaced, and then went back to work.

Foggy slumped back into the couch, trying not to feel like he had been rejected. 

\---

_“Foggy? Foggy?!”_

_“Sir, you have to let us take a look at him.”_

_“He’s-- he’s been shot!”_

_“We know that, sir. You need to calm down so we can see how badly he’s hurt.”_

\---

Matt made lunch, dinner, and gave it all to Foggy without touching it himself. He then cleared everything up, starting the dishes over and over again even though it meant cleaning a cup just to reuse it. All without talking to Foggy.

Foggy pushed himself up off the couch. 

“Matt, sit down,” he said. “You’ve cleaned that plate four times today.”

“It’s dirty,” Matt mumbled. 

“Not that dirty,” Foggy replied. He chewed the inside of his lip, before deciding to rip off the bandaid. “Have you been taking your pills?”

There was a loud clang as Matt practically threw the plates into the dishrack. 

“I’m fine,” he spat. “Not everything is DSS.”

Foggy walked over and put his good hand on top of Matt’s. Matt’s hand clenched into a fist beneath his.

“Matt, you Dropped, you need to take your meds to--”

“I’m fine!” Matt pulled his hand out from under Foggy’s. “ _You_ aren’t. You’ve been shot. Take care of yourself for once.”

\---

_Anesthetic always made Foggy feel like shit. He groaned through the light-headedness and tried to swallow down the nausea. He tried to reach out, but his arm screamed too much for him to try._

_“Matt?” Foggy slurred. His mouth felt like it had been filled with marshmallow coated cotton wool._

_Someone shushed him and pushed a straw through his lips. He sucked on the water like it was his favorite cocktail. When the glass was empty, the person pulled the straw away._

_“Take it slow,” a female, distinctly non-Matt voice said._

_“Where’s Matt?” Foggy asked, blinking until the hospital lights stopped blinding him._

_“At home,” Claire answered. “He Dropped while you were in surgery, and we had to give him a Survitonin shot. Karen took him home to sleep it off.”_

_“I should--”_

_Claire was pushing Foggy back down before he even managed to begin to sit up._

_“You should go back to sleep,” she said sternly. “He’s fine, I promise.”_

_Foggy lay down, unable to feel how uncomfortable the hospital bed was through the painkillers._

_“Honestly, you two are as bad as each other,” Claire muttered as he drifted off._

\---

Foggy jolted awake just as the bullet in his dream smashed through the glass. 

Matt’s side of the bed was empty. 

Foggy’s heart pounded, which did nothing to calm the raging headache he had. His shoulder throbbed in time to both. It was only five in the morning so at least he had time to sleep it off. Not that he had gotten any better at sleeping without Matt. He should have after nearly two years of Matt’s nighttime adventures, but there was something about a cold and empty bed that just put him on edge.

It was probably the knowledge that his boyfriend was getting the shit beaten out of him by people with guns. That kind of thing tended to keep people up at night.

Foggy dragged himself out of bed and filled a glass of water, before returning to bed and downing some painkillers. He lay back down and stared at the dark ceiling, trying not to think of bullets shooting through his chest or worse, bullets shooting through his Sub. Foggy tossed and turned before grabbing Matt’s pillow and bringing it close to him, burying his nose in it so he could inhale Matt’s scent. 

Foggy groaned. His cock of all things had decided to join in on the whole being awake thing, and was now swelling in his pajamas. He maneuvered Matt’s pillow so he could wrap his whole body around it, which included it sitting between his legs, snug against his now hard cock. 

He rocked against Matt’s pillow, trying to focus on the smell of Matt’s body and not the pain in his own. It had been over two weeks since they had last had sex, which considering they’d been a fairly regular couple since college had made Foggy horny as hell, regardless of the whole being shot thing. 

Foggy moaned into Matt’s pillow, quickening his thrusts in the hope that he would get off as soon as possible. The pillow was nothing in comparison to the tight muscle of Matt’s body and it didn’t moan or thrust back like he wanted it too. 

When he did come, the orgasm was remarkably unsatisfying. He grabbed a tissue and cleaned himself up before wrapping himself around the pillow again, squeezing it tightly against him and hoping Matt would get home soon.

\---

_“Don’t leave me,” Matt whispered in his ear right as Foggy was being pulled into the ambulance. “Please don’t leave me.”_

\---

Matt looked like shit. His face looked like someone had taken a crowbar to it. Repeatedly.

Foggy had woken up some time after Matt had returned home, had a shower, and had dropped off at Claire’s to get some stitches. By the time Foggy had gotten out of bed Matt was in his sweats, cooking lunch (that Foggy guessed he would barely eat), and, to reiterate, looking like shit.

“If you weren’t blind, you’d only be seeing out of one eye,” Foggy said. 

“I’ve had worse.” Matt plated their lunch, with more than the lion’s share going to Foggy. 

“C’mon, Matt, you’ve got to eat more than this,” Foggy said to him, but Matt just shrugged.

“I ate when I got in.”

Foggy didn’t need superpowers to know that was a lie.

“So, how did a street thug get at the great Daredevil with a monkey wrench?” Foggy asked. The lunch was really good, and he was starving, and he hated that Matt wasn’t eating it out of some misconstrued guilt.

“I wasn’t on the streets last night,” Matt said. He traced a fingertip around the rim of his coffee.

“Oh? What were you doing in the suit, then?” Foggy froze at the look on Matt’s face. “Matt, you didn’t.”

“He shot you,” Matt said coldly.

“So you, what? Went at Frank Castle with your billy clubs and your armor which is still dented from the last time you went at him, by the way--”

“It wasn’t Frank.” Matt walked to the window, coffee in hand, and faced out of it. “It was the man who murdered Frank’s family. Frank came with me.”

“Fuck, Matt.” Foggy tried not to jump to the worst conclusion, but he had seen plenty of cases of Subs going borderline feral after their Dom was hurt, and they didn’t have several years of martial combat training and several more years of being a vigilante under their belts. “What did you do?”

“I just got in a couple of hits,” Matt said. “Frank was the one who blew him up.”

“God...” Foggy stood up. “Matt, are you okay?”

“Stop asking me that!” Matt slammed the coffee mug onto the table. “You could have _died_ , Foggy. You could have died, and I wouldn’t have been able to do--” Matt heaved a couple of breaths. 

Foggy ran forward to put his good arm around Matt.

“I’m right here,” he said. “I wasn’t even badly injured.”

“They pulled 36 bullets out of Reyes’ office,” Matt croaked. “And 17 more out of her. If you had stayed in your seat, you would be dead. And it would have been my fault.” 

“Matt, we’re in a dangerous business, even without all the superheroes and shit. Hell, we’re in a dangerous city. If you hadn’t gotten me out of the way, I would be dead. You saved my life.” Foggy grasped Matt’s chin and titled it up so Matt was facing him. Matt’s eyes were red and shiny from crying. Foggy wiped the tears away and pressed a gentle kiss to Matt’s bruised eye. “Thank you.”

Matt pulled Foggy in for a deep and hungry kiss. He placed one hand on Foggy’s waist, under the sling, and the other he tangled in Foggy’s hair. Foggy cradled Matt’s cheek with his good hand, controlling how deep Matt went with the kiss. Matt whined when Foggy wouldn’t let him kiss any faster, and took Foggy’s lip between his teeth and sucked. Foggy growled, but Matt still didn’t release his lip. Instead he walked them backwards until they were in the bedroom.

Carefully, so not to jolt Foggy’s injured arm, Matt pushed Foggy onto their bed and began to remove Foggy’s pants and boxers. Straddling Foggy’s thighs, Matt stripped himself of his own shirt, cross bouncing against his collarbone, and then he bent himself in half and wrapped his lips around Foggy’s cock.

“Fuck,” Foggy groaned. He tried to thrust his hips and dive deeper into Matt’s wet mouth, beautifully warm like a bath, but Matt used his hands to keep Foggy’s hips firmly pressed against the mattress.

Foggy’s cock quickly rose to the occasion, eagerly hard against Matt’s tongue. Matt bobbed his head, taking more and more into his mouth until Foggy’s tip was halfway down his throat. Foggy shouted as Matt deepthroated him, grabbing the back of Matt’s head and fisting his hand in Matt’s hair.

Right when Foggy was about to come, Matt pulled off, leaving Foggy panting and his cock dripping. Foggy groaned, his head hitting the pillow with a heavy thump. Matt stood up and shed his sweats and his briefs, giving Foggy a nice view of his equally hard cock before he walked to the other side of the bed and began rummaging through their bedside table for the lube.

When he had it, Matt crawled back onto the bed and got on all fours beside Foggy. He squirted lube onto the fingers of his right hand and spread them around until they were glistening and Foggy could hear them squelch against each other. Matt lay his head on his forearm and propped his ass higher, before reaching around and pushing four fingers straight into his hole.

Matt cried out, immediately starting himself on a fast and brutal rhythm. Each thrust punched a grunt out of Matt’s chest. Foggy swallowed, aching to reach out and touch Matt but he knew what Matt was doing, knew Matt needed that control. Matt sped up his fingers, somehow, and started to pant and drool over his arm. Foggy knew those sounds. Matt was about to come.

When he was right on the edge, Matt pulled his fingers out and slumped on the bed. They lay side by side for a moment, catching their breath and waiting for their arousal to die down enough for them to continue. 

Matt must have calmed down, though Foggy wasn’t sure how, because he pushed himself to his knees and grabbed the lube again. This time he covered the palm of his hand with it. He reached over and wrapped his lube covered hand around Foggy’s cock, slicking it up.

“No touching,” Matt growled in the voice Foggy had heard him use when he was feeling particularly devil-ish. Then he straddled Foggy’s hips again and sank down onto Foggy’s cock.

Matt didn’t give any time for him or Foggy to get used to the sensation before he threw himself into the ride. Matt didn’t ride him often-- usually he was too tied up-- but when he did it was always a glory to behold. Foggy had to worry about sore muscles and stamina, but Matt just threw himself into it like he had hydraulics in his thighs. He didn’t get tired, and could go as fast as either of them wanted. One time Foggy made Matt ride him in time with a fucking machine on full speed, and another time he made Matt straddle him with just the tip inside and stay there.

The only problem was that on top, unrestrained, and with the illusion of control, Matt couldn’t come. He could ride Foggy night and day and never get enough build up to go over the edge, and would eventually end up collapsing in a puddle of need. 

It was probably the only way to keep Matt from coming without a little outside help.

Matt leaned back and put his hands on Foggy’s thighs, rolling his hips with every thrust. His sweat made his hair stick to his forehead and even his cross stuck to his chest. He parted his lips, which were still red from their impromptu makeout session but not as red as Foggy would have liked, and moaned.

Foggy decided to be the obedient one in this relationship and kept his arms firmly where they were supposed to be-- his right lay on his chest, still firmly nestled in its sling, kept away from the action as much as it could be. His left he kept beside him, the fingertips achingly close to Matt’s knee. It would be so easy to touch, but he knew Matt didn’t want him to. 

He also knew not touching Matt was going to drive Matt wild.

Matt leaned forward, putting his hands either side of Foggy’s head. From this position Foggy could see the tears in the corner of Matt’s eyes. He reached up to touch Matt’s cheek, but Matt grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the bed.

“It’s okay,” Foggy said as Matt’s hips rolled faster. The grip around his wrist was tight, and Foggy wondered if it was going to be enough to bruise. He didn’t care. Instead he bent his fingers to run them across Matt’s hand. “Take what you need. I’m right here.”

Matt moved his hips faster, making the bed creak with every bounce. Foggy winced as Matt clenched around him. Any tighter and he was going to come and he knew they weren’t ready to stop yet. Matt panted and bowed his head over Foggy’s.

“I’ve got you,” Foggy said, pressing a light kiss to Matt’s lips.

Matt cried out and shifted positions again, back to resting his hands on Foggy’s legs. The muscles in his stomach were twitching and his cock was bouncing with each thrust. His skin was flushed all over his body, and the cross to contrast made him look so debauched. It was beautiful.

It was time.

Foggy slowly reached out and put a hand on Matt’s stomach. Matt jumped, but didn’t remove it, and let Foggy trail his hand over the muscles just above his cock. Foggy moved his hand just below Matt’s belly button and pressed, just hard enough to feel his cock moving inside Matt’s body.

Matt grabbed Foggy’s hand and held it tightly to his stomach. He kept opening and shutting his eyes, an old habit he sometimes fell back into. He was whining properly now, grunting and gasping like the porn stars Foggy sometimes saw. Each movement was accompanied by a shudder from Matt. 

Foggy slid his hand further, dragging Matt’s hand with it, and wrapped them both around Matt’s cock. 

“You’re going to come now,” Foggy said, loosely fisting Matt’s cock.

“Foggy,” Matt gasped, rolling his hips back and forth between where he and Foggy were conjoined and Foggy’s hand wrapped around him.

“Make me come too.” Foggy sped up his hand.

When Matt came, it was with enough force that some come ended up on Foggy’s face. His hole clenched tightly when his orgasm hit, and Matt’s movements with the contractions was enough to send Foggy over the edge as well.

Matt slumped to the side, having barely enough energy to pull himself off Foggy’s cock before he lay down beside him. They lay in silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. And then Matt began to cry.

“I thought you were going to die,” Matt whispered. “I knew you were still conscious, but I heard the gunshot and I could smell your blood and… I knew it wasn’t rational but I was so _certain_ that this was how I was going to lose you.”

“I was scared too,” Foggy admitted. “I was scared of leaving you, of not being able to do all the things we planned, of just general, you know, _death_. I’m not ready to die. Plus I don’t have my lawsuit against God fully planned out yet.”

Matt’s laugh had that particular scandalized tone, mixed with his sobs so it sounded as fraught as he was. 

Foggy cupped Matt’s chin in his good hand. 

“Matt, I need you to understand that this wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was.” Matt sniffed. “If I had been fast enough, then--”

“You were fast enough. You were fast enough to not only save my life but make sure the bullet made no serious damage. You are the reason why I’m here.”

“I’m also the reason why you were in that room. If I hadn’t made you take Frank’s case, then--”

“Then Karen would have,” Foggy said firmly. “She was chomping at the bit to take this case just like you. And because we’re saps with a desperate need to do the right thing, we could have taken it. Which would have led us to getting in too deep, because that’s what we do, and then we’re back in Reyes’ office getting shot at again.”

Matt shifted.

“We’re going to get caught in the crossfire because that’s the type of people we are.” Foggy sighed. “It’s a knowledge we have to live with every day.”

“I can’t lose you,” Matt said quietly.

“And you haven’t,” Foggy replied. He kissed Matt’s forehead, which made Matt’s eyes slide closed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

\---

_This time when Foggy woke up, he could at least figure out where he was without his brain being smothered. There was a comforting warmth around his hand. Claire was there again, and she showed him the buttons for the Nurse’s Station and his morphine, which was a hell of a drug._

_Foggy looked down to find the source of his warm hand. Matt was lying asleep on his bed, his back contorted in a position Foggy was sure he could only fit in because of his training, and he was tightly holding his hand._

_“He’s been here ever since they let him back in,” Claire said. “No one’s been dumb enough to try and make him leave.”_

_“How’s he doing?” Foggy asked. He wanted to stroke Matt’s hair, but his other arm was decidedly against moving. Oh, right. He was injured._

_“Not great.” Claire leaned against the wall. “Seeing you get shot sent him into a bit of a freefall. He keeps saying it should have been him.”_

_“Do you think he gets the irony?” Foggy mumbled._

_Claire scoffed._

\---

The next day, Matt was far more… Matt-like. He wasn’t lively by any means, but he smiled at Foggy when they woke up, and managed to eat something that could be considered breakfast. Instead of washing an unnecessary amount of dishes he curled up with Foggy on the couch and they through a season of Friends before three pm, when Matt suddenly had to be out the door.

“What’s going on?” Foggy asked. “I thought we didn’t have any clients right now.”

“Not a client,” Matt said, putting on his jacket and glasses. “I managed to get a last minute appointment with my Therapist. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah,” Foggy laughed. “I can manage a couple of hours home alone.”

“Don’t break out and join a softball team,” Matt said before kissing Foggy goodbye.

“How did you know?” Foggy asked, and then Matt was gone.

\---

_Reyes looked frazzled. No, something beyond that; the kind of haphazard you only reached when you were already half terrified to death. She told them everything: about Castle, about what happened in the park, about what she did to cover it up. Foggy almost hoped he had been recording the meeting on his phone so that he could give whoever ended up prosecuting her the confession of a lifetime. If that wasn’t illegal, obviously._

_He saw Matt cock his head in the corner of his eye. He didn’t register it, not fully, until Matt was shouting something and the glass was shattering and his ears were battered with the sound of gunshots. One had ripped through his shoulder before Matt had gotten him to the ground. He couldn’t even understand the pain he was in because he was too busy focusing on_ holy fuck they’re shooting at us _and_ Matt’s shielding us.

_He kept waiting for the bullets to hit them, for Matt’s body to go limp on top of them before he and Karen were shot like the pathetic sitting ducks they were._

_He had been shot._

_He was going to die._

_They were all going to--_

“Foggy!” Matt yelled.

Foggy blinked. He wasn’t in Reyes’ office-- he was in his and Matt’s apartment, on their couch (sweating all over it, ew), being held up by Matt’s fist in his shirt collar and arm around his shoulder. He coughed. Apparently he had been screaming.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“You’re crying,” Matt said quietly.

Foggy wiped his eyes. Huh, so he was. 

“It’s nothing, just a bad dream,” Foggy said.

Matt released his collar and pulled him in for a hug, wrapping his arm around Foggy’s waist on his injured side and moving himself so he was the perfect height for Foggy to rest his head on Matt’s shoulder. 

“I’m fine.” Foggy buried his face in Matt’s neck. “See? Totally fine.”

“Totally fine,” Matt agreed, and let Foggy cry into his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I've whumped Matt a lot in this series, it was time to spread the love around.
> 
> Someone asked for a role reversal after like, installment two? This was what my brain came up with. It was also by far the hardest fic in this series for me to write (so far, I keep putting off the grand finale) so clearly unless Matt is getting pulled to pieces my brain is just not interested. So instead we have angst. Who am I kidding, there was always going to be angst. It's me!


End file.
